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THE 


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Maid of B ethany 

— A Study of the Christ — 



— AUTHOR’S EDITION 


Springfield Mass 


1889 



Copgrtgijt 1889 
BY ALBERT H HARDY 
3£Ug t)tj3 fteserbcfc 


THE DWIGHT PRINT V 
Springfield Mass 



Contents : 

• I. THE PILGRIMS. 7 

II. THE CITY GATES. 12 

III. THE CHRIST. 16 

IV. THE NIGHT WINDS. 19 

V. THE MAID. 23 

VI. THE DOVE BOY. 27 

VII. THE HOLY HILL. 






30 



“ Now when Jesus was in Bethany , in the house of 
Simon the leper, 

There came unto him a woman having an klabaster 
box of very precious ointment , and poured it on his 
head , as he sat at meat. 

Verily I say unto you , Wheresoever this gospel shall 
be preached in this whole world, there shall also this, 
that tips woman hath done, be told for a memorial 
of her." 


-St. Matthew XXVI, 6, 7, 13. 




T^ e M a ^ of 3 et ^any 


THE PILGRIMS. 

“ But what went ye out for to see ? A prophet ? Yea, I say 
unto you, and more than a prophet .” — St. Matthew XI, 9. 

Brought out and sharply defined against 
1 the purpling evening sky, a small party of 
country folk might have been seen wearily 
making their way along the Bethlehem road 
in Palestine. It was in the olden time, and there were 
perhaps twenty in number. The party was composed 
entirely of the common people of the country, their 
faces indicating this as much as did the garments which 
they wore. Two young men headed the procession, and 
thus one sppke to the other: 

“By the faith of my fathers hath the Maid of Beth- 
any confessed by her speech her love for this man whom 
they call Christ. Is it not for this that she hath desert- 
ed her home and people and fled to Jerusalem?” 

No one in the party seemed at first willing to deny or 
affirm this strange statement made by one of their num- 
ber, and the train moved along for some distance in 
silence. 

The . young man who had been thus addressed by his 
companion was one of the most striking and imposing 
figures in the group. He was slightly above the medium 
height, well and firmly put together, and what was 
most peculiar and noticeable in his appearance was the 


fact that, unlike any of his companions, he was fair- 
haired and light; his curling hair and close-cut beard 
being almost as yellow as spun gold. Otherwise his 
face was of the Jewish type, as were those of the others 
of the company, but the rest were mostly dark ; some 
darkened by the sun more than nature had intended 
them. 

This man whom his companions called Michael, al- 
though one of the youngest of the party seemed a sort 
of leader, and everything showed that he was a fa- 
vorite, and that he was looked upon with the greatest 
respect, and even admiration by those with him. 

Perhaps it was his physical, perhaps his mental make- 
up, that put him and kept him a little above his fellows, 
but be that as it may, he had that quality, or combi- 
nation of qualities which makes men leaders. Had it 
been his fate to engage in battle he would always have 
been found at the front; had he been an. explorer, no 
wilderness or forest would have had terrors for him ; 
had he been a man of modern times he would still have 
led, had his lines of life been cast among the high or 
the low, the rich or the poor. His was a brave spirit ; 
his a noble nature. 

This was indicated by the erect carriage, the firm 
step and the bright, fearless eye of the young man. Ev- 
ery action showed that Michael was not a self-imposed 
leader, but that he had been put there by his people 
who recognized his strength, both mental and physical, 
and his superiority over them. 

So unusual was this man’s appearance among 
the dark people of his race, that they called him 
the “Sunshine.” His nature was as light, bright and 
sunshiny as his face; he was perhaps two and twenty, 
and although he had looked with favor upon many 


of the young women of Bethany, he had not shown 
special attention toward any of them. He and the 
Maid of Bethany had been children and playmates to- 
gether, and he loved her as only such natures as his 
can love. 

Michael’s companion spoke: “Art thou so enamored 
of the fair Maid of Bethany that thou dost so notice 
her goings and comings? Art thou envious lest she 
desert her people and cleave unto the new faith?” 

“This hath she already done, if report be true,” said 
the first, “and verily, it seemeth to me, it is thou who 
lovest the Maid, not I.” 

The other closed his lips firmly, and made no reply. 

The quaint yet picturesque dress of the party would 
have impressed the modern observer as curious, and 
worthy of study; walking as the people did, in the 
gathering gloom, they presented a weird and by no 
means uninteresting appearance. 

But who were these people? and whither were they 
going? In those days the question would scarcely have 
been asked. They were a band of pilgrims from the 
country on th£ir way to Jerusalem, where Christ was 
even then performing his wonderful miracles, and preach- 
ing to the people. His fame had extended to the in- 
nermost country, and few there were, whether inmates 
of stately palace or humble cot, who, whether they 
acknowledged him Saviour or pretender, did not mar- 
vel at his doings and his speech. His fame had spread 
so that not to have seen him were to have appeared 
a dullard in the eyes of the simple-minded people. 

Multitudes came from miles and miles around, won- 
dering at his wonderful power, even though they were 
not converted to his teachings. 

The people who composed this group as it passed 


9 


along this night in the waning light, were from the 
humble walks of life, herdsmen and women who toiled 
in the fields. Their dresses were of the most quiet col- 
ors, no royal purples nor scarlets appearing among 
them. They were the people of the people. Theirs 
were for the most part Hebrew faces, many of them 
aged and lined by time and toil, but every eye was 
fixed on the distant hills toward which they were jour- 
neying. None lacked in interest, yet on some of the 
faces might have been found traces of scorn, and many 
a lip curled at the mention of some marvellous act 
performed by the Master. 

The voices of the pilgrims were low and subdued, 
and nearly their whole conversation was directed to- 
ward the scenes they were to visit. The way had 
been long, and although their feet had grown weary 
the interest had never flagged. The party went for 
some ways after the conversation between the young 
men, each one appearing to be absorbed in his or her 
own thoughts, when an aged man who was at the 
head, and who from his position, and the respect shown 
him by the band, seemed a sort of prophet, began 
speaking. The old man walked with a staff, his white 
hair and beard falling on his shoulders and breast, not 
unlike some of the pictures representing the patriarchs 
of the times. 

The old man spoke in the Hebrew tongue, and said : 
“Verily if what the people say be true, this man whom 
they call Jesus hath done strange and wonderful things. 
Peradventure, he hath worked a charm upon the Maid 
of Bethany, and the spell may now be upon her. 
They say he hath raised the dead from their graves, 
so they walk and talk, and are once more breathing 
and living beings: that he hath the power to heal the 

10 



sick and to cast out devils; that, when the tempests 
are raging, and the waters run high, so that no ship 
can live in the flood, this man hath by a spoken word, 
hushed the waves and the storms. Blame thou not too 
much the Maid of Bethany, lest thou findest she hath 
not the power to resist this man.” 

As the old man continued his talk, the pilgrims drew 
closer, drinking in all he said, for although the stories 
were not new to them, yet they were always ready to 
hear them repeated. 



11 


THE CITY GATES. 


“ They drew nigh unto Jerusalem, and were come to Beth- 
phage, unto the Mount of Olives . ” — St. Matthew XXI, 1. 

When the old man had finished, the young 
2 man who had first spoken said: 

“By my faith this cannot be true. They 
be but some trumped-up tales of those who 
hath followed him so long that their minds do wand- 
er and they have little wit. None but the God of our 
fathers hath the power to give life, and he alone can 
still the waves and storms. Away with thee, old man; 
hast thou not heard the sayings and teachings of the 
prophets? ” 

“Aye, verily,” answered the first, speaking without 
anger, “They do say this Jesus hath power to speak 
with the Father, and that he is a mediator, doing 
nothing by himself.” 

“Hath he a light about his head? and doth he fly 
on the wings of the wind?” asked a woman, who had 
pressed forward as the conversation became more 
general. 

“ It hath been said,” spoke one in an awed whisper, 
“that he goeth from place to place in the night, and 
that a dark shadow doth accompany him.” 

The night was fast creeping on, and in the east a 
faint crescent moon weirdly lifted its crest above the 
low hills. 

“ If he hath the power to make the dead to live, why 
then hath he not the same power to make the live to 


12 


die?” asked one. “He may do ns evil, and who can 
say the spell is not even now upon us?” 

“He doeth no deeds but those of kindness,” spoke 
an old woman, “he hath yet done ill to no one.” 

“This maybe idle talk,” said another. “Is he better 
than we? Hath he not passions, and hate? Is he not 
like unto us to love his friends and hate his enemies?” 

“Surely thou hast heard,” answered the old man, 
“what hath so often been said of him, that he hath a 
human and a divine nature.” 

“ Peradventure, so hath all of us who art fashioned 
by the God of our fathers.” said one, who had not be- 
fore joined in the conversation. 

The knotty theological questions which have puzzled 
men of learning from that day to our own, were not 
for those humble and honest country folk to decide, 
making as they were that long journey, nearly 
nineteen centuries ago, many of them to satisfy a 
curiosity rather than as seekers after the light of 
truth. 

Argue as they might, view the subject in any and all 
the lights of which their minds were capable, they 
could not all grasp the idea of the God-man, he who 
was both human and divine. Their lines of argument 
were not without sense — they were practical to say 
the least. What they saw they could but marvel at, 
but this did not, in all cases, make them believers. 
As we see a man to-day, practicing his wonderful feats 
of legerdemain, so these people saw the miracles of the 
Christ. They were struck with wonder and awe, but 
they did not believe a divine hand was back of it all. 
He was to them a magician, to whom it seemed dan- 
gerous to listen, for all were impressed with his words 
and works, admit it though they might not. 


They were strong faces, those of the pilgrims, but 
what did they express? Let us look at the old man 
who walked in the rear of the others, and who said 
little during the whole journey. His was to listen, not 
to join in the conversation of the others. His hair 
and beard were long. There were lines of care about 
the deep-set eyes and firm lips — lines of suffering. His 
large crooked nose gave great strength to the face 
which had not a weak line in it. But, striking and 
strong as it was, it was far from being a spiritual one, 
and it was at times almost evil in its expression. It 
was, however, a face once seen to be remembered, and 
to make an impression, though perhaps not always a 
pleasant one. The face showed the owner was not 
one likely to be easily moved or persuaded by any the- 
ories or isms that did not not appear to him perfectly 
clear. Not even the teachings of the Christ could in- 
fluence such as he, were his mind fully made up that 
his were the truths and the whole truths. Like the 
others of the party, the old man had listened to the 
Hebrew teachings from his youth up, and was it won- 
derful that such a man should be slow in accepting 
and being converted to a new religion? 

There were in the group the faces of old women who 
with their scanty hair, bright eyes, and wrinkles, were 
almost witch-like in appearance. They were not the 
ones first to be converted to the teachings of the Mas- 
ter. 

Then there were pleasanter faces, among them the 
young men and maidens, faces that showed that their 
owners had seen work, and some of them care, but 
they did not have the hard lines of the others, for 
their eyes were yet bright and tender, and if they 
smiled their faces lighted up brightly, and when they 


14 


laughed there was a true and honest ring to tiieir voices 
which comes only from the lips of youth and innocence. 

There were no children in the party, but one or two 
of the young women could not have been more than 
sixteen or seventeen years of age. Middle-aged men 
and women were to be found in the greatest number, 
and they seemed to form the foundation of the group. 
They were solid, honest looking people, all used to 
toil, and many of them to privation. 

Clearly the stories which had been circulated about 
the country regarding the miracles of the Christ had 
made a deep impression, on the minds of the members 
of the little band, and as they journeyed on, their 
simple hearts filled with awe, wonder, and at times 
malice, when they thought of the carpenter’s son who 
had been lifted so far above them in the hearts of so 
many of the people. 

The sharp horn of the crescent moon, now swinging 
low and brightly in the eastern heavens, and appear- 
ing like a great shining jewel, standing out as it did 
from its dark setting of dull blue sky, pierced through 
a billowy gray cloud, rending it as the harvester rends 
the waving grain with his sickle, and then becoming 
partially lost in the rift which it had made, but still 
shining through, as though a thin veil had been dropt 
before its face; the purple which pervaded the balmy 
atmosphere faded to gray, excepting where the fields were 
touched by the moon’s rays, and in such spots the grain 
was turned to riper gold, the shining leaves of the trees 
had the appearance of silver, and the roads, dusty and 
hot during the day, were bathed in a flood of mellow 
light ; away behind the party of pilgrims a belated bird 
sent out his low good-night song, all the air was hushed, 
and just beyond the travelers were the gates of the Holy • 
City. 


\ 


15 


THE CHRIST. 

“ Ye call me Master and Lord : and ye say well ; for so I am." 

—St. John XIII, 13. 

On the same day when the party of travel- 
3 ers passed along the highroad, a solitary 
person walked silently and thoughtfully a* 
mong the trees, so the party might almost 
have brushed against his garments as they entered the 
city. It was the figure of a man. He was very tall 
and there was something in his mien which would at 
any time have attracted notice, although his face and 
garments showed that he was accustomed to out-door 
life, and that his habits were not unlike the poor. His 
dress was of dark grey or brown, dusty, much worn, 
and made in the loose, flowing fashion of the time. 

He wore no sandals on his feet, but they were bare, 
and like his garments showed that the man had walked 
far. His face was in some respects peculiar and in 
every way remarkable. Then —as it certainly would 
to-day were another such face to appear— the people 
were as much impressed by the face as the man. 

He looked to be thirty years of age, as he in reality 
was —slightly past thirty. His eyes were large, full, 
dark brown in color, and with an element in them 
that cannot be described. Who shall say what the 
people of his time saw in their depths? They were 
wonderful eyes; beautiful, clear and expressive, but sad 
withal. The nose was the most prominent and strik- 
ing feature of the face. It was large and slightly crooked, 


16 


giving a marvelous strength to the outline. The lips 
were full, red and indicated perfect health. The teeth 
when disclosed, which were seldom, corresponded with 
the rest of his face and were white and even. The 
complexion was dark and swarthy, almost russet, set 
off as it was by a dark brown mustache, drooping 
well over the large upward-rolling upper lip, and the 
chin and face was partially covered by a beard strong 
and heavy, and corresponding in color with the mus- 
tache. His hair was long, having almost the appear- 
ance of being unkempt, drawn away from either brow 
and falling upon the wearer’s shoulders in loose curls. 
The face was a perfect type of strength, vigor and 
manliness, from the broad forehead to the strong, 
muscular neck. 

The figure was straight, almost majestic in bearing, 
and although six feet in height he looked more. 
His shoulders were rather narrow, but each curve 
of them as well as the well-rounded arms and figure, 
was extremely graceful in outline. As we see him, his 
head is bent, and his eyes- downcast. It was the 
person of the Christ. 

Stepping deeper into the shadow, the man waited 
until the company had passed, and then followed 
after at some distance, entering almost immediately 
one of the narrowest and most obscure streets of the 
city. 

His entrance was heralded by no demonstration by 
the people, but he came as did the humblest of the 
humble, not seeking nor desiring notice. There was a 
look of more than care upon his strong and sensitive 
face as he walked towards one of the smallest and 
poorest houses in the street. 


17 


The expression on his face was like that of a man 
who has wearied of earthly glory. It is not to com- 
pare this of all men with those of our time, who 
have reached a high place in the minds and hearts of the 
people, who have won fame by one or more of the va- 
rious channels which make men renowned. The crowds 
followed his every footstep, hung upon every word that 
fell from his lips, watched him with either admiration 
or contempt, until who shall wonder that the Master 
at times grew weary of the multitudes, and desired 
and sought the seclusion and quiet which he could find 
only in some of the humble homes of his people. 

His was not to mingle with the merry or gay but 
he chose rather the shady paths and lanes, when 
in the country, and the narrow and secluded streets 
of the city. This night he appeared weary and travel- 
worn as though he had walked far. 



THE NIGHT WINDS. 


“ Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the child- 
ren of God." — St. Matthew V, 9. 

Walking part of the way down the narrow 
4 street, the man stopped in front of a small 
dwelling, and knocking lightly at the door 
it was opened to him, and he stepped within 
the humble threshold. Within, as on the outside, there 
was everything to indicate poverty. But however poor- 
ly the room may have been furnished, there was an 
air of perfect neatness about the place, which showed 
that although the inmates may have been poor, they 
had about them some of the better traits of life. 

He was met at the door by an old woman who on 
seeing her visitor came forward hurriedly, and bent in 
absolute adoration before him. 

“Is it thou, my Master?” she said. “Thou art wel- 
come to my home and my fireside. More welcome 
than all the kings and princes of the earth.” 

He lifted her to her feet, but she still clung to his gar- 
ments. Only a few words were spoken between the 
two, but in those words it was shown that the wom- 
an was one of the most ardent followers of the new 
faith, and that the Master’s will was hers. 

In spite of her great age, her eyes were as bright and 
her sense of hearing as acute as a woman half her years. 

The old woman listened furtively for several minutes, 
while a look of alarm, and then one which seemed to 


approach fear or anger crept into her weather-beaten 
face. 

No sooner had the Christ entered this home of one 
of his people than another figure approached at the 
end of the street. It was a woman, and by her elas- 
tic and firm step one could see that she was young, 
although no part of her face was exposed to view. So 
closely was she enveloped in the heavy garment which 
fell nearly to the ground, that her face was not dis- 
cernible, but every line of her finely developed figure 
was brought out by the drapery, so that seen there in 
the dim light she was one of almost perfect grace and 
symmetry. 

Alone this woman stood in the quiet street, seeming 
to listen for the least sound that should come to her 
from either the city outside or the street itself, until 
at last she seemed to gain courage, and to suddenly 
resolve upon action. Once more this woman looked 
quickly up and down the street as if to make sure she 
was unobserved, and then, certain that she was alone, 
she walked hurriedly on until she was in front of the 
cot which the Christ had entered. Here the girl once 
more hesitated. 

The night was fast coming on. The early moon was 
sinking low in the west, and only the stars shone dim- 
ly through the dull blue sky. A soft fragrant breeze 
came through the trees that bordered the street, and 
the perfume from some rich eastern flower made all 
the air heavy with its scent. Long stood the lonely 
figure before the humble cot, seeming to deliberate 
whether she should turn back or enter. 

Was it imagination? or some fancy of the girl’s ex- 
cited brain? and was it a step she heard approaching 
from the other end of the street? There could be no 


20 



mistaking it now, for along with the noise of the step 
the girl could dimly see the outline of a man. There 
are times when one is alone in the darkness that 
a footstep is more welcome than is the sunshine by 
day ; there are other times when a footfall in the night 
brings only alarm. 

It was a heavy step which the girl heard on this 
night, and although she did not know fear, she would 
have given all she possessed to have been away from 
the spot. 

There is a physical and a moral fear, one which may 
harm the body, the other the mind or soul. They are 
different, yet alike. The girl . had no fear for her per- 
sonal safety as she stood there alone in a strange 
street, and in a strange city; she had wandered alone 
too long up and down the country roads of her nat- 
ive Bethany to fear that danger would come to her, 
but although her action to-night she knew to have 
about it nothing of evil, she knew that her trials would 
be great were others to discover her presence and know 
of her seemingly strange act. 

The footsteps came closer and closer, and the girl 
grew more excited, trembling like the leaves on the 
trees above her head as she imagined she was ob- 
served by the stranger. No, he did not see her, he was 
passing on, intent on his own thoughts. The girl tried 
to shrink closer into the shadow of the cot, the wind 
rustled noisily through the boughs of the trees, and 
the figure was so near to her that she could have 
reached out her hand and touched his garments. 

The light came only from the stars, and the man did 
not see her. He turned and faced the place in which 
she stood. There was a stifled cry, and the one word, 
“ Michael,” just trembled on her lips. She would have 


21 


fallen had she not caught a friendly tree for support. 
But the man had not seen into the dark deep shadow 
nor had he heard the stifled cry, and not stopping nor 
turning, he disappeared from view. 

Twice the girl started to retrace her steps, and twice 
returned. At last drawing her garment still closer 
about her she went to the rear of the dwelling where 
she knocked timidly. The door was quickly opened to 
her by the old woman. 

“ Who art thou ? and what is thy desire ? ” she asked. 

“It is I, the Maid of Bethany,” came the reply in a 
whisper and in the Hebrew tongue, “and I desire rest 
and comfort.” 

After a short whispered consultation between the 
two, the door was noiselessly closed and the Maid of 
Bethany went back into the night. 


THE MAID. 


“For she loved much; but to whom little is forgiven , the 
same loveth little .” — St. Luke VII, 47. 

Those who have visited the Jerusalem of 
5 to-day know the houses and streets of the 
Holy City ; those who have studied the Je- 
rusalem of olden time can picture the low 
rude houses which in some sections were little more 
than huts. To one of these let me take you on a 
night a few days after the opening of our story. It 
was in the outskirts, and far from the busy marts of 
trade and commerce. It was among the humble homes, 
the very humblest, yet there was love and reverence 
and friendship found, and to the threshold many a 
weary wanderer took his way, always sure to find 
strength and comfort. 

Within these walls dwelt James, a worker in metals, 
the son of Matthias, and his father’s sister, Sarah. 
The father was dead, and the two lived within the 
narrow walls, loved by their neighbors, and those who 
knew them best. 

But there was a strange inconsistency in the religi- 
ous beliefs of the two. James had long ago become an 
enthusiastic convert to the teachings of the Christ, but 
his aunt scorned other than the faith of her fathers. 

To this house had come the Maid of Bethany after 
leaving her own home, and here she had found a wel- 
come. She was a cousin to James and to him she had 
come seeking protection from the rough treatment and 


23 


rude tongues of her people. All her family, save James, 
had refused the teachings of the Master, but early he 
had heard, seen and believed. To him the carpenter’s 
son was indeed the Messiah who had been promised by 
the prophets in the Old Book, and to the Christ he 
had given all his allegiance and love. 

But what should be said of his cousin, the Maid of 
Bethany ? In her home life in the quiet village she had 
only the Hebrew teachings from her birth. Like her 
cousin James, her father was dead, and her mother 
condemned the Christ as a pretender. She would not 
be convinced of his divinity. Could her voice have 
been heard it would have been the loudest to cry, 
“ Crucify him ! ” “ Crucify him ! ” 

It was but a few months before that the Maid of 
Bethany had first seen the Christ, but from that day 
when he preached to the great multitude from the hill- 
side near her mother’s home in Bethany, she had been 
unlike her old free and happy self. 

No longer did she work in the fields with her mates, 
no longer did she tend her mother’s flocks by day, or 
sleep as only a tired maiden can sleep on her lowly 
bed at night, but all day and far into the night would 
she wander up and down the valley, sometimes chant- 
ing her wild Hebrew songs, but oftener morose and 
silent. 

Her mother’s admonitions had little to do with 
changing the girl’s strange moods. Was it love? Was 
it passion? Was it infatuatibn? 

Michael, who was now with the Bethany pilgrims, 
knowing as he did that the girl had abandoned home 
and friends to follow this man who was well nigh 
worshiped by the people, loved the Maid of Bethany 




24 


with a passion born and kept fervent in only such 
strong, healthy natures and bodies as his. He was a 
Jew, faithful and true to the teachings of his fathers, 
and he had come with the pilgrims not so much to see 
and hear the Christ as to make one more appeal to 
the woman he loved. 

Night was fast settling down about the metal-work- 
er’s home. Reclining just without the door and par- 
tially in the shadow, her long waving hair falling a- 
bout her and circling her neck and throat, with her 
shapely white arms bare and thrown above her head, 
and her hands clasping a low overhanging bough, was 
the Maid of Bethany. Many of the people said she 
was possessed of a devil and shunned her. But to 
have seen her with her great black eyes half closed, the 
dark luxuriant lashes now sweeping her cheeks, and 
now trembling as she half opened her beautiful eyes, 
she was as fair as a picture by one of the old masters. 
She was four and twenty, but did not look nearly 
that. 

Her long loose garment clung closely about her, 
showing as she turned in her half reclining position, 
all the graceful curves of her body. Idly this strange 
woman swung with her hands clasping the bough a- 
bove her. Then the swinging stopped, her great red 
lips parted, and she half sang, half croned this wild, 
pasvsionate Hebrew song: 

“ Give me thy light , 0 moon , for to thee do I 
lift up my voice. 

Shine thou upon the way to him whom my 
heart loveth. 

Sing softly to me, wind, out of the depths of 
the forests ; 


Beat on my breast, O wave, till its wild throbbing 
Swells and responds to thee, as when the tempests 
Beat the great rocks on the shore when they 
are angry. 

O, all ye elements, hear my heart's crying!" 

A figure clad in loose brown garments passed from 
the deep shadow into the bar of moonlight which 
shone through the trees, and stopped for a mo- 
ment as though attracted by the music, but for only 
a moment did it stand in the light. 

Without turning, the figure passed quietly into the 
shadow, and was lost to view. With the appearance 
of the man, the song stopped, but the Maid of Beth- 
any still swung in her improvised hammock, not seem- 
ing to tire of holding her own weight. But the ex- 
pression on her face changed, her lips closed firmly, and 
her eyes opened wide. She was ven^ beautiful as she 
thus lay with the moonlight just touching her face and 
shoulders. With a strange wild look in her eyes, the 
woman moved in position so that only a dark out- 
line could be dimly distinguished under the trees. The 
Christ and the Maid of Bethany had each passed into 
the shadow. 


20 






THE DOVE BOY. 


“ But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to 
come unto me; for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven .” 

— St. Matthew XIX, 14. 

It was morning, and just as the sun was 
6 touching the low hills with pencillings of 
gold and rose color, a young lad walked 
along the broad highway, and stopped out- 
side the city gates. 

So beautiful was he that had he been older he might 
well have posed for any sculptor as a Greek god. But 
the lad was scarcely fifteen years of age, and although 
he carried his limbs by no' means awkwardly, yet they 
were not fully rounded, and lacked that muscular de- 
velopment which, if the boy’s frame was any indica- 
tion, would come in later years. 

The lad was a mystery even to his few associates in 
the city. He had also come from Bethany, his name 
was Arlo, and he sold doves by day in the market 
place. At night he slept where the dark overtook him, 
and he was so silent and retiring that those who did 
not know how sweet and lovable was his nature, were 
wont to call him sullen. 

On this morning when we first see him, Arlo walked 
for some distance, and then stopped to rest, throwing 
himself upon the grass and clasping his hands about 
one knee, which he crooked under him. 

He looked fixedly toward the distant hills, and the 
first rays of the morning sun shone full upon him. 


We sometimes in our day see people from the East 
who have eyes as had this lad. They are found under 
no other sky, and among no other people. For lack 
of a better word we call them hazel. Arlo’s eyes were 
not that color. They were a rich brownish grey, large 
and expressive, with a shade of golden bronze about 
the pupils when their expression changed, and that 
was so often that one could almost read his thoughts 
by his eyes. His face was purely of the eastern t}'pe, 
but more after the Greek than the Hebrew in outline. 
There was the straight, delicately chiseled nose, the 
nostrils so narrow and pink that there was an almost 
imperceptible expansion as the breath came and went. 
He had thrown off his bright colored turban, and his 
hair, dark brown in color, curled loosely over a brow 
as low and white as a woman’s. 

His lips fell just short of being sensual. When he 
should grow older the close observer of this boy would 
say that either the earthy or spiritual nature would 
predominate, and that it would be wholly one or the 
other. Not that his face was so weak that he would 
be governed by whichever life first came to him, but 
that his mind was so balanced, if the face was an in- 
dicator, that he would give himself up to the extreme. 

The long white garment which he wore fell to the 
ground, and his small feet were encased in sandals. 
Nervously clasping and unclasping his long slender fin- 
gers from about his knee, showing by every turn the 
.slight flexible wrists, the lad looked anxiously toward 
the eitv gates, as though expecting the arrival of some 
one. 

As the sun sent its slanting rays across the green- 
sward, the Maid of Bethany stepped briskly through 
the eitv gate, and hurried to the boy’s side. 


“ Peace be with thee,” she said, as she knelt by him, 
and softly stroked the lad’s silken hair. 

‘‘It is thou, at last,” said the boy wearily, “what 
dost thou with me?” 

“What knowest thou of the Master?” asked the 
girl. “Shall I see him? Is his speech ever of me? Ar- 
lo, thou comest from him, thou art dear to him. He 
is thy teacher, counselor, friend.” 

“ Peradventure, thou speakest truly,” said the boy, 
as he looked almost indignantly at the Maid, “but the 
Master is not for such as thou. Does he not preach 
to the people of their sins ? and was it not but yester- 
e’en he told the woman outside the temple that, to live 
near him, she must needs be as pure in heart as the 
little child which she carried at her breast?” 

“But I love him!” cried the Maid of Bethany, as 
she caught almost roughly at the boy’s arm. 

“Thine is not love, but sacrilege, and ill becometh 
thee and thy sex,” said the boy sternly, as he shook 
off the woman’s hand, and retraced his steps. 

The voice was that of a child, the words those of a 
prophet. Was she such a sinner, was she so vile, that 
this boy should see how black was her heart and repri- 
mand her? These were the questions she asked herself 
as she stood there in the full glory of her womanhood 
and the morning sun, and watched the boy as he dis- 
appeared within the gate. 

“But I love him,” she continued to repeat, over and 
over to herself. 


29 


THE HOLY HILL. 


“ And all the people that came together to that sight, behold- 
ing the things which were done, smote their breasts and returned. 

And all his acquaintance, and the women that followed him 
from Galilee, stood afar off, beholding these things.” 

— St. Luke XXIII, 48, 49. 

During his stay in Jerusalem Michael 
7 had not failed to see the Maid of Bethany. 
She always received him kindly, but as a 
friend rather than as a lover. He was to 
her a great handsome boy who had foolishly fallen in 
love with her and still more foolishly insisted upon 
professing his love. She did not laugh at him, she pit- 
ied him. It is indeed a weak-brained and a heart- 
less woman who, loving herself, does not sympathize 
with others even though their love may be hopeless. 
But Michael would not abandon hope. 

On that terrible day when was enacted the greatest 
tragedy that the world has ever known, Michael and 
the Maid of Bethany met at the house of James, the 
worker in metals. 

Who is there that does not know the history of that 
day in Palestine long and long ago? The Christ was 
the central figure; around him clustered his followers 
and those who reviled him. 

So rapid was the movement of the great drama that 
from the early hour when the sun in the course of its 
endless rounds rose over the famous city, until dark- 
ness came, each moment was filled with incidents. As 
it has been written : 


30 


“And straightway in the morning the chief priests 
held a consultation with the elders and scribes and the 
whole council and found Jesus and carried him away 
and delivered him to Pilate.” 

How eagerly the great crowd waited without the 
temple. There were murmurs from the inside, but the 
tumult of voices in the street was like the wind in a 
mighty forest. 

A messenger from the inside brought the news to the 
waiting multitude. 

“It is Pilate’s will that the people choose which he 
shall surrender to them, the Christ or Barrabus the 
thief.” 

The faces in the crowd were the mirrors of their 
preferences. Again a messenger appeared, but this time 
it was Barrabus himself. He had answered the prob- 
lem and the fate of the Master was decided. 

Then came loud murmurs from the Pretorian, and 
with hands bound and crowned with a crown of thorns 
the people who loved him saw their idol led forth be- 
tween files of armored soldiers. On toward the Holy 
Hill moved the great procession, but many remained 
in the city. 

Among the latter were familiar faces. Arlo, the dove 
boy, and the faithful follower of the Christ, had left 
his doves in the market-place; he was too young to 
realize the full import of the tidings that were from 
time to time reaching his ears. That his teacher and 
friend was in great trouble was enough. He was told 
that he could not go to him, and the thought of Pi- 
late, the soldiers, and the great men in the temple 
awed and frightened him. 

With face close pressed against the stones in the 
street the boy lay, while sob after sob shook his slen- 


der frame. The excited crowds surged by and no one 
noticed the boy. Such scenes were not unusual on 
that da’y and too many had their own griefs to notice 
those of another. 

The face of the old man who had come to Jerusalem 
with the pilgrims was sad and thoughtful. James 
would have given his blood to save the Master, but 
Pilate’s will was law. 

Michael and the Maid of Bethany sat together in the 
house of James. The girl was grandly beautiful in her 
agony of sorrow. In vain Michael attempted to com- 
fort her. 

Up and down the city streets surged the waves of 
sound, now coming in excited cries and now in heart- 
piercing moans, but the girl heard them not. To this 
great passionate creature it was as though her very 
heart was being crushed. She loved with a love that 
would brave and bear all, and though she had been 
told that her passion was sinful and unnatural, yet 
that passion swayed and ruled her. 

Suddenly^ a derisive cry reached her ears from the 
street. She started up with a wild look in her eyes, 
gathered her mantle about her and hurried out. Tak- 
ing the edge of the crowd she followed to a high emi- 
nence where many were gathered together. 

The Holy Hill was in sight, and amidst the blaze 
of light reflected from the armor of the soldiers, their 
spears and the great mass of people, she saw the arms 
of a ghastly cross raised in the air. 

With a low moan she pressed her hands convulsively' 
to her heart and sank to the earth. When Michael 
reached her a slender stream of blood was issuing from 
her lips. The heart of the Maid of Bethany had 
broken. 




32 






“ Mine answer to them that do examine me is this: 
'‘Have we not power to eat and to drink ? 

“Have we not power to lead about a sister , a wife , 
as well as other apostles and as the brethren of the 
Lord , and Cephas ?" 

— I Corinthians IX, 3, 4, 5. 


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